


Nothing But Pain

by cubedcoffeecake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, and never came back, voldemort died on halloween 1981
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cubedcoffeecake/pseuds/cubedcoffeecake
Summary: If Harry hadn't left the diary out on his bed, none of this would've happened.But he had, and it did.





	Nothing But Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsundanire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/gifts).



> This is a gift for the LOVELY tsundanire. She is one of our pinch hitters who swept in and took up the gauntlet when someone had to step down from the exchange. Hope you enjoy (and have your feels murdered (: ), and thank you again!!!
> 
> Thanks also to keyflight790, both for the incredible beta and coming up w the title!!

“Harry,” Tom said quietly—warmly. He was smiling. His shoulders relaxed, his mannerisms trusting, everything about his person belying familiarity and—it could almost be believed—affection.

But Albus Dumbledore had known Tom Riddle a long time. He knew better.

The shade from the diary turned, expecting to see Harry—the boy who gave him the magic he needed to grow stronger, and who warmed his bed as well. Who even, as of late, had warmed his heart.

He didn’t see Harry. Tom saw, for a moment, his hated old Transfiguration professor holding a sword to the diary that kept his soul. Then, there was nothing but pain.

* * *

Heart pounding in his chest, Harry took the stairs up to the Headmaster’s office two at a time, his bag slapping into his back with each movement. He’d only ever heard of students being personally called for a meeting with the  _ Headmaster _ when they were about to be  _ expelled _ . What could he want with Harry?

The door was guarded by an intimidating gargoyle. “ _ Lemon drops _ ” allowed Harry entry, and he did so, beginning to shake a bit. He was horribly nervous, and had a feeling in his gut he’d learned meant something bad was about to happen. To say it took all his willpower to open the door would be giving him too much credit; Harry was fairly sure the door opened of its own accord a moment before his first reached it to knock.

“Ah, Harry my boy, please come in.”

Taking the smallest steps he could, Harry reluctantly shuffled up to the giant, brightly colored seat the headmaster was gesturing for him to sit in.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Ah, but I wish it was,” the headmaster replied, expression grimmer than Harry had ever seen it. “Harry, the House Elves clean the dorms every morning when you are at classes. You know this, yes?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Well, after the Great War, they were instructed to report and deliver any potentially dark magic or artifacts directly to me. We had no wish to allow another wizard so powerful as Voldemort to rise. You understand, I’m sure. My sincerest condolences for the loss of your parents—they were wonderful people.”

“I—thank you, sir,” Harry stuttered. And then...  _ The diary _ . Oh, Merlin, he’d left the diary under his pillow.

Something must have sparked in his eyes, for the headmaster’s expression hardened.

“You are quite familiar with Voldemort, aren’t you? Mysteriously ending him as an infant, his legend has followed you your entire life.” Harry could feel the color drain from his face. He leapt up, pulling his wand out and holding it steadily in front of him.

“Where is he? What have you done to him?!” he demanded.

“He has tricked you with his charms, Harry. You love him—I could tell that he believed that. You would never have harmed him. The man who  _ killed your parents _ —“

“Tom didn’t kill them! He wanted to become Voldemort, but my Tom NEVER DID!” Harry screamed. A few gadgets exploded, and the headmaster stood up swiftly.

“Put down your wand,” he said quietly. “I will be having you relocated to a family who can help you, Harry. Tom manipulated you, but I will ensure that—“

“You have no right to say his name!” Harry cried. “ _ Where is he _ !”

Expression perfectly scolded into fatherly disappointment, the headmaster reached into a drawer and pulled out the diary. Harry was running through all of the nastiest spells he had heard of—most of them from Tom himself, when Harry was going through fifth year and Tom had to resort to suggesting terrible ways to murder Harry’s aunt for Harry’s anger to calm—but then he saw the diary had a hole through the center.

His eyes widened and Harry gasped, wand wavering as he stared at the lifeless book.

The headmaster took this opportunity to disarm Harry and stupefy him.

* * *

“ _ Harry, love?” Tom murmured, turning to face him, a warm smile on his lips. _

_ “Tom,” Harry replied, grinning back. He stepped forward into his lover’s embrace and relished the feeling of those strong arms holding him to Tom’s chest. Harry could feel the steady beating of his heart against his cheek. _

_ “How was your day? Seventh year turning out to be as terrible as you feared?” _

_ “No worse than sixth year was, as I’ve told you a thousand times,” Harry chuckled. _

_ “Ah, yes. The loss of my expertise must make you work so much harder.” Tom attempted to sound joking, but Harry knew him well enough to hear the pain in his voice. It broke Tom’s heart to live a shade in a book who would never gather more knowledge than he already possessed. Harry tried, but… _

_ Their relationship worked because they accepted its limitations. _

_ “My back is suffering from that 30-inch essay Snape wanted,” Harry complained. “Maybe a back rub would help? You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who gives bloody fantastic back rubs, would you?” _

_ Harry could practically feel Tom rolling his eyes, but a moment later he was being shoved face first onto a luscious bed that had appeared, and Tom was straddling him and using those brilliant long, dexterous fingers of his to find and massage the knots of muscle. Only moments had passed before Tom was bringing Harry to moan. Harry didn’t hold back, letting the embarrassingly sexual sounds free and enjoying the gardening of Tom’s cock against the small of his back. _

_ Finally, Harry’d had enough and rolled over, knocking Tom off balance. He grabbed his lover’s shoulders and pinned him down, more or less reversing their previous position. He leaned down and began a messy, open-mouthed kiss, rolling his hips down to grind their erections together as Tom’s moans mingled with his own. _

_ Tom’s hands came up to gently push Harry—just enough for their lips to part. _

_ “Merlin, Harry. You know I love you?” Harry’s heart bloomed, a smile stretching across his face, hips grinding harder. Tom said it like that so rarely… _

_ Harry opened his mouth to say “Of course.” Or maybe “I love you, too.” Or any countless other things that mean such. _

_ Before he could let out the words, however, the world began to rapidly break away. _

* * *

“Tom?” Harry gasped, sitting up abruptly. He glanced around, frantic; desperate. There were sheets pooled around him. Plain white sheets. He was in the Hogwarts infirmary.

The occurences in the headmaster’s office flooded back to him, and Harry cried out—a wretched, choked thing.

Tom was—Tom was dead. Oh, Merlin, Tom was  _ gone _ . Gone before Harry even knew, before Harry could do anything. What had been the last thing he’d seen? Had he been trapped in his diary and then just been… gone?

Tears fell down his face. A world without Tom?

He’d found the diary in his second year. He’d called Tom his best friend by fourth, and by the end of fifth, he’d known and accepted that he loved him. During sixth he realized that Tom may truly love him, too, and this year…

They were going to do so much. Go so many places. Be so much. See so much.  _ Live. _

Harry’s mind strayed to the mindscape Tom had inside the diary. Endless white, continuing on and on and on, and now there was no figure standing in the distance. The bed where they first fucked, before Tom had the strength to become corporeal; the restaurant he’d imagined into being for their first date; the cat, Apollo, he’d convinced Tom to keep; they had all just died with Tom.

_ Everything they’d built was gone. _

A piece of Harry’s heart—his  _ soul _ ; it was gone. He didn’t know what to do.

Harry screamed.

* * *

When next he awoke, Harry was not greeted by the headmaster's face, as he had feared. Draco Malfoy, of all sodding people, sat in a chair by the bed, head in his hands. He glanced up as Harry shifted, and then looked back down.

Before Harry could ask what in Merlin’s name he was doing, Draco began to speak.

Lucius Malfoy had wanted revenge on the Weasleys, Harry’s friends—but also many-generational enemies of the Malfoys. He’d left the diary, and Harry had found it after Ginny Weasley realized that Tom didn’t actually care about her and heartbrokenly tossed it away.

Draco felt guilty. It was an emotion Harry could empathize with right now. He felt near as much guilt as grief for Tom’s death— _ if he hadn’t left it on his bloody bed Tom would still _ —and understood now what Draco wanted. He had the luxury of doing something to appease his guilt that Harry had been robbed of.

“Dumbledore wants you to go live with either the Weasleys or the Longbottoms—I’m not certain it’s decided yet,” he said. “They’ll bring it up constantly, trying to convince you to hate him.” Draco glanced at Harry’s face.

“You don’t want to hate him?” Harry shook his head.

He could get Harry safely established across the Channel. Out of the country, and away from Dumbledore. The headmaster. Who had killed Tom, and wanted Harry to think that was good.

Having no other choice, Harry agreed.

Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini waved him off as he left Hogwarts in a carriage. Harry watched as they grew to be tiny dots before vanishing entirely.

He closed his eyes, and wished with all his heart that Tom was sitting on the bench across from him.


End file.
